The rest of the Easter holidays settled into a quiet, miserable grind. The students' resentment grew heavier by the day.
Nobody was thrilled about having their precious time off completely buried under a mountain of homework. Even the Starlight Sanctum crew, despite their mysterious cognitive buff, was forced to spend massive chunks of time just grinding through assignments.
With five days left in the break, Hogwarts welcomed a rare visitor.
"It's been a long time, Dumbledore," Newt Scamander said, looking across the Headmaster's desk with a nostalgic sigh. "You've genuinely aged."
Dumbledore flicked his wand, sending two steaming cups of sweet tea floating into their hands. "We all grow old, Newt. Fortunately, I've always managed to keep a young heart. Did Tina not come with you?"
Newt gripped his teacup, watching the ripples on the surface. "She headed to New York first to check on Queenie and Jacob. Jacob hasn't been doing well lately. They're a bit worried."
Dumbledore shook his head sympathetically and shifted the topic. "So, what brings you to Hogwarts?"
"Can't an old friend just come to visit?" Newt blinked.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah. Love has certainly changed you."
Newt smiled, the brief flash of melancholy entirely vanishing. "Actually, a young Hogwarts student did me a massive favor over Christmas. He reminded me of one of the few real friends I ever had here..."
Meanwhile, down in the Great Hall, students were buried in their essays.
"Poor Quirrell. He's been coughing his lungs out in class all day," Ron muttered, his quill flying across his parchment. "We really need to give him more credit. Snape hasn't made a move in forever. I bet Quirrell is holding the line and refusing to help him!"
Harry nodded in firm agreement.
Ever since he had caught Snape backing Quirrell into a corner while under the Invisibility Cloak last term, he had permanently labeled Quirrell as the good guy. He had obviously shared that intel with Ron and Hermione.
Watching a "good guy" suffer like this made Harry furious, but there was nothing he could do about the Sorcerer's Stone or Quirrell's illness. All he could do was quietly hope everything worked out.
"I get that, but I still can't stand how useless his classes are," Hermione complained. "If he's sick, he needs to go to the hospital wing, not drag himself to the podium and waste our time! I talked to a second-year, and she said she learned tons of practical defensive magic last year. But us? We literally just sit there rigidly reading from the textbook!"
Harry and Ron exchanged a look and wisely chose not to argue with her.
Just then, an owl swooped into the Great Hall and landed on the Gryffindor table.
"Hedwig?" Harry blinked.
"Who's sending you mail right now?" Ron leaned in.
Harry shook his head, untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, and unrolled the scrap of parchment. Four scrawled words stared back at him:
It's hatching!
"What?" Ron frowned, totally confused.
"It's Hagrid!" Harry whispered, his heart hammering as he immediately started shoving his books into his bag. He recognized the messy handwriting from his birthday cake.
"Hagrid... the... the egg!" Ron's eyes went wide. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.
"Hurry, we can't miss this!" Ron yelled, his voice cracking with excitement. "Hermione!"
His sudden outburst drew annoyed stares from the students studying around them.
"Oh, sorry! Just remembered... I have a library book that's due today!" Ron flushed bright red, awkwardly blurting out the first excuse he could think of. The other students rolled their eyes and went back to work.
Hermione glared at him. Ron just mouthed two words: Dragon. Egg. Without giving her a second to process, he started frantically packing his bag.
You guys are absolute lunatics! Hermione thought. She realized something was happening with Hagrid's egg, and she was furious at how recklessly Harry and Ron were acting.
It was a fire-breathing dragon! Ron himself had pointed out that breeding dragons was highly illegal. Not just school rules—Ministry law! And they were still acting like this?
But what else could she do? She had to go with them. If things went south, Harry, Ron, and Hagrid were completely incapable of handling it on their own!
Wait, Richie...
Hermione instinctively glanced toward the Ravenclaw table, but Richie was nowhere to be found. Running out of time, she grabbed her bag and sprinted out of the hall after Harry and Ron.
Across the room, Draco Malfoy watched the trio run off, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
"Thanks for inviting me to see this, Hagrid," Richie said.
He was crouching by the fireplace, watching the massive egg violently twitching inside a cast-iron pot of boiling water hanging over the flames.
Behind him, Hagrid was pacing frantically, clutching From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide.
"Oh, of course, Richie. You're one of the few who knows about it," Hagrid forced a nervous smile. Suddenly, he shoved the heavy manual into Richie's hands. "Here, you check the book and make sure I'm not missing anything! I can't even read the words anymore, I'm making myself dizzy!"
Seeing the massive half-giant reduced to a bundle of pure anxiety, Richie gave his leg an empathetic pat. It reminded him exactly of how he felt pacing outside the delivery room when his wife gave birth in his past life.
Standing up, Richie pulled a small bottle of calming perfume from his robes.
"Hagrid, crouch down. Take a whiff of this, it'll help you center yourself."
Hagrid didn't question it. He immediately dropped into a crouch. Richie popped the cork and waved the bottle under Hagrid's nose.
"Oh... wow." A crisp, soothing scent filled his lungs, and the chaotic fog in his brain instantly cleared. "That is brilliant! Thank you, Richie!"
"Don't mention it," Richie said, pocketing the vial as Hagrid visibly relaxed.
Just then, a heavy knock hammered on the door.
"Hagrid, it's us! We're here!"